So Long, and Thanks For All the Quacks
by avian
Summary: 2 New Chapters up! The fate of the universe is in the hands of the Justice Ducks. In this update, we explore the Mind and heart of Morgana Macabre, and the Justice ducks take their first baby steps into the Negaverse.
1. Prologue

It's been five years since the battle for St. Canard. Darkwing Duck and his friends have seen many battles in their time, and won. Both Drake and Launchpad are married to the women of their dreams, St. Canard is safer than its ever been, and Gosalyn has even managed to stay out of prison! But alas, dark forces are still conspiring against our heroes, forces that will change their lives forever.

Who's in it: Darkwing Duck/Drake Mallard, Negaduck, Morgana, Launchpad, Gosalyn, Avian, Honker, Sara Bellum, J. Gander Hooter, Vladimir Goudenov Grizzlikof, Negaverse Gosalyn, The Friendly Four, and a cameo from Ford Prefect

Most characters except mine copyright Disney.

Ford Prefect is copyright Douglas Adams (From the incomparable _Hitchhiker_ novels such as _Life, the Universe, and Everything_) and Ford Motors, I suppose.

The song "When I Seen an Elephant Fly" is copyright Disney as well.

"The song "Yellow" is copyright Coldplay.

As usual, not used with permission, but as always, used with utmost respect and love.

So Long, and Thanks for all the Quacks

By Avian Beakman

PROLOGUE

_Knock, knock _

"Password."

"Walt sent me."

Darkwing Duck and Launchpad McQuack stood side-by-side in a dark, dank and narrow back alley of St. Canard at midnight. The crime fighting team was disguised, dressed to kill, and dangerously handsome. Their mirror shined shoes glinted when a tiny rectangle of light opened in the blackness.

"Second password." The bouncer demanded.

Launchpad pulled a small, round harmonica from his jacket and tentatively tooted an experimental note. Then he and Darkwing sang:

_**I seen a peanut stand**_

_**Heard a rubber band**_

_**I seen a needle wink its eye**_

_**But I be done seen**_

'_**bout eva-thing**_

_**When I seen an elephant flyyyy--eye!**_

_**When I seen and eh-ehlephant flyyy!**_

The heavy door opened suddenly.

"Welcome." Said the bouncer gruffly. "Welcome to the Pink Elephant."

In a moment, Launchpad and Darkwing were immersed in a world of high rollers, hard liquor, hot jazz, loose women, and more shady criminals than you can shake a gas gun at.

Darkwing stood as tall as he could (which wasn't that tall). "Okay, partner. " He muttered. "This is it. Act casual."

"Heyyy." Said Launchpad, winking at a pretty flapper girl.

"Got somethin' in your eye?" She said.

Darkwing fought back a laugh. "Maybe not that casual."

Darkwing and Launchpad had been working undercover for the past two years, known to the criminal underworld as "Aces" McGovern and "Jackie the Blade", assassins for hire. Not a few elaborately hoaxed murders and assorted crimes later, they'd made it. They'd caught the attention of the last crime kingpin in the city, Ricky Parisi. He wanted Aces and Jackie to help his gang. This was to be their first and probably last meeting. Ricky was the final domino to knock down before St. Canard could be free of organized crime.

Darkwing scanned the room through the heavy pink haze to see just the duck he came to see, and it wasn't hard. Years of ill-acquired decadence had made Ricky "The Doughboy" Parisi aptly named. His bulk spread over the velvet booth in the back of the club, surrounded by bodyguards, confidants, muscle, brains, and floosies. Even Ricky's son was there, Tony, surveying everyone with suspicion.

Ricky saw Darkwing, ( AKA "Jackie"), and motioned to two of his thugs to escort Jackie and Aces to the table. Not for the first time, Darkwing swore to himself this would be the last time he and Launchpad would ever do this dangerous undercover work. This would be the night Ricky and all his friends would be captured and face justice.

"So, Aces, Jackie. You kids finally made it down here." Drawled Ricky. His voice was rough from a lifetime of chain smoking, but there was a sophisticated charm to it.

"Yessir." Said Darkwing and Launchpad brightly.

"Love the new password." Said Launchpad.

"I'm partial to it myself." Said Ricky. "You two aren't bad singers either. Who would ever suspect two angel-faced, golden-voiced gents like you are actually pitilessly murdering bastards? Course…", Ricky took a long drag from his cigar. "That's probably one reason why you're so good at what you do."

"Jackie the Blade" shrugged modestly, took the cigar offered to him, and accepted the light. In the smokescreen he observed Ricky's men. Most were the picture of criminality. They were loyal to their leader and had sacrificed a lot to get where they were. Ricky's over-privileged son, Tony, observed the would-be assassins right back. The jealousy and resentment was palatable. Darkwing decided to cut to the chase.

"Who do you have in mind?"

The godfather glanced at the two women at his sides, who produced and opened two suitcases full, of course, with thick stacks of millions.

Darkwing smirked. "That bad, huh?"

"This is all just an advance of course." Said Ricky lightly. "Eliminate Darkwing Duck, and you can name your price."

Launchpad hoped he wasn't sweating as much as it felt. The environment was suffocating, in more ways than one. The past two years had been extremely fun for the most part, taking out bad guys, being cool, ruthless, and funny. Launchpad had felt he could do anything with his friends by his side. Events turned sour in the last few weeks when a girl about Gosalyn's age named Lisa Webb didn't show up for school one morning. Turned out the girl's father had gotten himself indebted to these criminals, and his daughter had been kidnapped until he could pay them back. The similarity between this girl and Gosalyn didn't go unnoticed by Drake, who was furious. The fact he looked so at ease at the moment was impressive. Launchpad was having a hard time staying in character.

Darkwing sat back chuckling. "Kill Darkwing Duck. Isn't that guy amazing? You know, I heard that he may not even be human. He can dodge bullets, disappear… and reappear." Drake vainly wiped imaginary ash from his tailored suit. "What chance do we have against a phantom?"

Ricky Parisi smiled at Drake's arrogance. "I thought I might try fighting phantoms with phantoms this time. Seems like you and he share a lot of similarities."

Darkwing laughed again. "You can keep the cash. What I want …is the girl who brought the money to me."

Everyone's eyes traveled to the beautiful young girl who had opened one of the suitcases full of money, and was now standing in the background, seemingly trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. When she saw that everyone was looking at her, she shrank further into her thick curtain of blonde hair and averted her eyes. She had nowhere to look but the floor. Launchpad didn't get it. Sure, flirting was part of the disguise, but picking up girls like this? What would Morgana think of that?

Right on cue…

"Hey Jackie! Aces! Where have you rascals been? We've been looking for you everywhere!"

Morgana and Avian had arrived.

"And look! I can't believe it! It's Ricky Parisi!" Breathed Avian. "Even _more_ handsome in person!"

Launchpad pretended to cough.

"_Launchpad honey." _

Launchpad's coughing fit was interrupted with Avian's voice in his head. It was always a weird sensation because Avian was standing right there, and obviously wasn't talking to him out loud. His wife's telepathy could be unnerving.

" _Change of plans babe. Darkwing says the blonde is that missing girl. That's Lisa Webb." _

"_What?!"_

"Jackie, Aces, you have impeccable taste." Said Ricky oily, his piggish eyes examining Morgana and Avian head to toe. "You're asking a damn high price, but I admire your taste. Ladies, please excuse my language. It's not everyday the Pink Elephant is graced with such lovely and sophisticated creatures as yourselves."

The two witches tittered girlishly.

Once again, Launchpad heard Avian speak somewhere between his ears.

"_Get Lisa out of here as soon as you hear the signal. The code word is 'HONEYWUMPUS.'" _

"_What?!"_

"_I didn't stutter!"_

"Oh _Richard_." Said Morgana fondly. "You're such a charmer."

"I have my moments." Said Ricky vainly, kissing Morgana's hand. "Would you grant me the pleasure of your name?"

"Olivia Swanson." Lied Morgana.

"And _you_ are?" Chimed in Tony Parisi to Avian, who seemed to have forgotten his lookout duty.

Avian winked. "Esmeralda."

"Lovely." The gang leader said, and turned around to face "Aces" and "Jackie." "Tell you what…you can have the girl…if you would be willing to part with these ladies for one night."

What's _the girl's _name?" Asked Darkwing, gesturing to the scared teenager.

"It's Christina. Christina Featherton." Lied Ricky dismissively. His lusty attentions were on "Olivia".

Drake circled the trembling teenager, pretending to chauvinistically mull over the gangster's offer. Darkwing was inwardly seething with rage, looking the girl over for any sign of abuse. Lisa looked so much like his own daughter.

"Well!" said Drake brightly as he spun around. "You may have yourself a deal, if it's okay with my little…honewumpus."

At that moment, a lot of things happened at once. First of all…

"SHUSH! SHUSH! EVERYONE PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" Shouted a chorus of authoritative voices. Agents burst into the speakeasy from the front and back door.

SHUSH may have bit off more than it could chew that night. Everyone was armed to the teeth. Men drew two guns minimum. Weapons were produced from creative spots on those wearing even the skimpiest outfits, and tiny old ladies surgically extracted pistols from little beaded coin purses.

The air was ripped apart and exploded in gunfire. Launchpad threw himself over Avian.

Drake felt a little foolish as he was crushed under Morgana, but he could squint up enough to see some of Ricky Parisi's men quickly lift a raised wood panel from the wall behind them, and climb inside the dark passageway they revealed. Apparently, the corpulent Parisi could move when he had to; squeezing through the narrow passage with surprising speed…with Lisa Webb in tow.

Darkwing got Launchpad's attention by pointing at the tunnel and shouting, rather expecting to be shot as bullets ricoched over nearly every surface around them. Soon the heroes followed as the last of Ricky's men slipped behind the wall. The poured black concrete hallway behind the wall both muffled and magnified the battle taking place inside The Pink Elephant.

They sped through the cool hallway, chasing their quarry through the maze of tunnels, down, down, to what appeared to be a parking garage. A shiny black 1939 Rolls Royce awaited Ricky Parisi and his men to whisk them away on yet another escape from justice.

Tony and the other men reared back as the doors of the car opened and reveled, alas, not their fellows, but SHUSH agents—including the enormous, intimidating form of Vladimir Goudenov Grizzlikof.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands up, or we will be forced to shoot!"

Again with unnatural speed, a desperate Ricky grabbed Lisa, putting a pistol to her head. His son and best bodyguard followed suit, doing the same with Avian and Morgana. Morgana rolled her eyes and Avian fought a smirk.

"No, I rather think you gentlemen should be the ones to put your weapons down." Said Ricky in a genteel tone. "Especially as I don't think you, ruskie, have the guts to be the one to explain to Lisa Webb's parents how she died tragically at your hands, as you tried to take credit for my capture."

Now it was Grizzlikof's turn to smirk. "Who said anything about capture Ricky?" Said Grizzlikof casually. He nodded to his right.

"I have my best sharpshooter with me tonight. If you do not surrender, he'll put a bullet through your pea brain before you get the chance to do anything."

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

Grizzlikov and his men had to duck behind their car, as more gangsters poured into the garage from the hall and opened fire. The SHUSH lieutenant had gotten himself hopelessly outnumbered, or so it seemed…

Tony Parisi had been holding Avian, but soon found her to be too hot to handle—literally. He quickly backed off, and Avian put a hand to the gangster's forehead.

"Goodnight." She said sweetly, as Tony fell over, unconscious.

Morgana had a different approach to her captor, as with a whoosh, he was gagged and hogtied. "You're much too nice." Said Morgana to her cousin.

Launchpad ducked down, but followed and kept a faithful eye on the only real hostage in the room, Lisa. Without her, Ricky had nothing to bargain with. The gangster kept a vise-like grip on her, quickly backing away into the smoke with the girl and some of his other men towards the mouth of the garage.

The garage was dark, and full of smoke and earsplitting noise. Drake was cursing himself for losing sight of Lisa, and cursing Grizzlikof for this raid. Without him, the night would have gone so much smoother, bloodless and less painful. It crossed his mind Grizzlikof may have known about Darkwing's plans to be here, though Drake didn't know how. In any case…

Darkwing pulled the beautiful Chinese sword he had been carrying all night from behind his back. His nickname wasn't "Jackie the Blade" for nothing.

Avian had been helping Morgana disarm the gangsters, when she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. For a moment, she thought she was the one who was hurt, and then she realized something worse.

"_Launchpad!"_ Avian saw Darkwing approach to help Morgana, and hurried off into the smoke to find her husband.

Drake found his wife and followed her as she used her magic to incapacitate the endless stream of people who poured out from the hall. This was a difficult thing, because even with her power, there were still only so many she could concentrate on at once, on top of the SHUSH agents putting up a valiant effort on the other end.

Drake expertly wielded his sword the _Emerald Fate_, deflecting gunfire from anyone who he saw had Morgana in their line of fire. Drake would also dive in, _Shing! Shing! _Cutting the barrels of guns, or wounding someone just enough to take them out of the fight. That 'no killing' policy can really cramp your style sometimes. Drake was doing a pretty good job if he said so himself (and he did), when suddenly he wheeled around in horror to see one of Ricky's men, aptly nicknamed "snakes", flying towards Morgana from behind.

Meanwhile, Avian ran towards the entrance of the garage---even though the fog was thick, she found Launchpad, she could taste his pain; but apparently, he was still running.

"Aces!" Said Avian, catching up with Launchpad. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, just got hit in the shoulder, stray bullet probly." Said Launchpad through his teeth. "You gotta go ahead and get her." Said Launchpad, who's eyes were still fixed where Lisa had been.

Avian sharply drew a long line in the air, and her broom appeared. "Enough!" She said, and flew off ahead.

Lisa Webb was more than out of breath as she was dragged along by the huge hammy hand of Ricky Parisi. They were finally at the giant electric door of the garage, when suddenly, she felt Ricky let go of her, and saw him and all his men inexplicably lifted into the air, and hoisted upside down. They all shouted in confusion and fear until Lisa heard a dark voice say "Be still." And the gangsters were silent and still. Lisa turned around to see the beautiful young woman from the speakeasy glance up at the statue-like and floating gangsters with profound disgust.

Lisa didn't say a word as the woman smiled down at her. She reached out her hand. "Lisa Webb, Please come with me."

Launchpad had been leaning against the side of the garage, torn up about what to do. He had never felt more shamefully useless than at that moment, wounded and unarmed. Then, out of the fog, stepped Lisa and Avian, with an ugly cloud of mobsters floating behind them. Lisa watched in amazement as Avian knelt down and placed her hand over Launchpad's wound. When she took her hand away, everything, including Launchpad's jacket looked good as new.

"Gotcha a souvenir." Said Avian, smiling, with a bullet in her teeth.

Launchpad frowned. "Don't overdo it." He said.

"Oh honey, I'm the very model of restraint." Said the witch, who kissed Launchpad sweetly and skipped off into the fog of the ongoing fray, trailed by floating gangsters.

"Who _are you people?" Said Lisa. _

Launchpad chuckled nervously. "Well, we might be weird, but we're the good guys."

With all heart wrenching dread that he'd never save Morgana in time, Drake launched himself forward with all his might, deflecting the poisonous fangs of the snake from Morgana's neck, as he felt one of its' fangs plunge into his own right side. Drake's sword was now useless in his right hand, so he switched to his left and returned the favor with the Emerald Fate, burying it into Snake's chest.

Morgana wheeled around, and her eyes widened in shock. Darkwing was in shock too for a moment, blood spattered, watching Snakes and his arm with an almost comic morbid curiosity. Drake knew he'd really done it now. He'd really killed this guy. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and without thinking, Drake got the idea to speak to the only person he knew who could help. He reached out to her with his mind. He knew he was asking a lot of her, and she might not even be able to do it.

"_Please save him if you can." _

Avian nodded. Immediately, the floating gangsters fell unceremoniously to the floor, and the air suddenly became thick with a dangerous electricity. It was a frightening few seconds, as one felt suddenly extremely vulnerable and. An inaudible voice, yet no less distinct, was heard in the mind of everyone in the garage. "STOP FIGHTING."

Almost comically, like scolded children gangster and SHUSH agent alike stopped fighting, their weapons seeming suddenly useless and feeble.

Avian hadn't waited for everyone to stop fighting, but strode across to the still form of the gangster bleeding on the floor. Avian's face was already shiny with sweat, and she shook as she assessed this guy. He was dead.

Launchpad and Lisa cautiously walked in on the scene. The smoke was lifting a little, and it was eerily silent in the garage. The distant sirens of Grizzlikof's impending backup were the only noise.

Launchpad had seen his wife heal people before plenty of times, and he was one of the few people who appreciated how much life and energy it took out of her to do it.

Morgana looked into her cousins' eyes and knew the truth. There wasn't going to be any talking her out of what she was about to do.

"I'll need some help…afterwards." Mentioned Avian. She grinned up at Morgana and Drake. "Stand back, this could get ugly."

Avian took off her shoes, and laid her whole body on top of the lizard's body. If that wasn't gross enough an idea as it was, she tried to get as much contact as possible: hand to hand, foot to foot, check to cheek. Then the girl of goddess-like power took a deep shuddering breath, and the air filled once more with a dangerous electricity. Every feather, every hair, every scale stood on end, as a pressure built up in the room that made it feel as if it would burst apart. Some people yelled as the pressure seemed almost too much to take; then abruptly, it stopped.

Launchpad feared the worst for a second, as Avian did not move at first…but then she rolled over onto the floor slowly, and the once-dead gangster began to groan. Morgana conjured some ropes around him, and then attended to her weakened cousin. Launchpad rushed over.

Thankfully, Grizzlikof's backup finally arrived, and police and SHUSH agents came to collect perhaps their largest roundup ever. Surprisingly, SHUSH's director, J. Gander Hooter came as well, looking over the scene.

The Russian bear known as Vladimir Grizzlikof looked over at Darkwing Duck. It was an odd look.

Darkwing scowled. He was sure Grizzlikof had followed him. He couldn't prove it though.

"Excellent work everyone. Excellent work." J. Gander Hooter beamed.

"Excellent…" Said Darkwing mildly, about to take a step towards the aging SHUSH director. "Which part? The song, the wardrobe, or the bit where our cover was COMPLETELY BLOWN?!"

Darkwing never quite landed the step he'd intended to. He stumbled, fell over, and lay still on the floor. And didn't get up.

Someone swore, Launchpad turned Drake over, and pulled Drake's hand from inside his jacket. It was red.

"Get away from him!" Ordered Morgana.

She and Avian knelt down, and placed their hands over Drake's wounded side. Everyone felt a curious sort of electricity charge the air. Healing magic sank into Drake's body. Avian's eyes widened and she whispered to Morgana.

"He's been poisoned, and there's no time to make an antidote. I'm gonna draw out the poison, and then you take it from there."

Morgana looked up at Avian horrified. Sweat poured off Avian's face and she could barely stand. Morgana knew her cousin may not have the strength for such complex magic, and stay alive. Still she nodded.

The younger witch closed her eyes and a long, thin stream of clear liquid began to siphon from Drake's wound and onto the floor. Avian was breathing hard and shaking badly…but then the stream of liquid tapered off into nothing, and Launchpad scooped his wife into his arms before she fell over.

Morgana quickly closed and healed her husband's body.

"All right, Darkwing." Said Morgana sharply. "Wake up. I mean it."

Though it seemed much too long, in seconds Drake was almost good as new. He stood up and dusted himself off. He looked to Morgana, Launchpad, and Avian (all of whom paler and thinner than he had ever seen them), and turned to James Hooter.

"I quit."


	2. Chapter 1: Negaduck's Personal Hell

CHAPTER 1: Negaduck's Personal Hell

Five Years Ago…

_Thanks to Morgana's moment of rage, Negaduck was trapped in a dark and uninhabited dementsion. Negaduck was left to nothing but his thoughts and willpower. And behind it all was the unwavering belief that he would get back to the Darkwingverse, and have his vengeance.  
_

The first night of the rest of Negaduck's life went something like this: One moment five years ago, he had been pinned against the wall by Morgana McCawber's unseen magic, and the next, he felt himself being pulled and squeezed quite painfully through space and time; it felt like some serious weight was crushing down on him and he couldn't breathe. The "Lord of the Negaverse" was scared for the second time that day, and thought the witch had lost control and had killed him for sure. And then suddenly…the pressure stopped and a deafening howling wind took its place. Negaduck laid face down on the ground as brutal wind blew dust into his eyes, his mouth, his face, threatening to pick up Negaduck and carry him off. Negaduck dug his nails into what felt like dry, cracked desert ground and held on. The cape that used to billow impressively behind him had been snatched off by the howling gale. But Negaduck wasn't nearly as afraid now as he had been a moment ago in the relative peace of his home.

The wind began to die down, and after what seemed an hour, the air was still, quiet, and seemed a little lighter than before. Negaduck coughed, and sputtered, and muttered, and swore, and shook sand out of places he didn't even know he had. He stood up—and looked around. As far as he could see, dry, cracked flat land stretched out in front of him. Negaduck looked to be the only living thing on that entire planet. He was suddenly impressed by how cold it was. Negaduck's breath was visible. Negaduck hadn't felt gratitude towards anyone in years, but it was satisfying to know he was alive. Revenge would be sweeter that way. Negaduck turned around. The desolation of the place was more complete than anyone on earth has ever felt in the wilderness. The bleak horizon had been getting brighter and brighter the whole time, and the exiled "lord" knew what was coming.

"Great." Said Negaduck sarcastically. "Sunrise." Soon it would be blazing hot.

And if there was any doubt about whether Negaduck wasn't in his dimension, the giant, red enormous and firey crimson ball of a sun that rose from the ground cleared it up. Nobody's too tough for ultraviolet rays, and Negaduck was forced to turn around, his eyes watering. Negaduck almost fell into a panic again, as he felt the warmth of this alien sun on his back. The witch had made a mistake and sent him to the wrong place! This was it, he was going to die here. Half of that bitch's spells turned everything into pudding, why would she have gotten a spell this dark and complicated right?

Negaduck never thought in a million years that Morgana McCawbre would have the guts to kill him. He had always counted on…always assumed that her feelings for Darkwing would prevent her from killing someone who's life, she must suspect, is so closely, disgustingly linked with her idiot boyfriend's. Suddenly Negaduck was angry. It was stupid to depend on anyone, especially some bi-polar bitch with a pudding fetish who didn't even belong to him. For a split second he thought of his Morgana, who would have been near unrecognizable a few years ago; so sweet and kind. It had been a particular point of pride to Negaduck that he had corrupted her so much. Now she was almost as bad as him…with a dark heart which belonged to Negaduck now. If only there was a way of summoning her…

Negaduck's brilliant yet criminal mind was working overtime. Much like his counterpart, he never gave up, even when it looked like the end. Negaduck didn't know it but, he might have had a chance of summoning the Negaverse Morgana if he loved her, but he lost his capacity in his younger years in a high stakes poker game. And I mean high stakes.

Negaduck's mechinations were interrupted by a loud rumble from deep beneath the ground.

"Perfect. An earthquake!" Negaduck thought fiercely. But out in this desert there were no buildings to fall on you. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Yaaaaaaa!"

The earth split open in another deafening roar, right beneath Negaduck's feet of course, and he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't stop himself from falling almost headlong into a dark chasm. If there was any moment Negaduck thought he might die, it was nothing compared to this.

Negaduck fell maybe fifty feet before his screams were abruptly silenced by a relatively soft and noisy landing. What the hell was this? A second later, he felt himself being pushed upward again, and the whole surface of the planet that Negaduck had been made unwilling governor of seemed to shake and move, and great colorful tufts of green and gold and red were popping up all over the place on the surface of the planet. Negaduck held onto the branches of what looked to be a great alien tree, as he was borne upwards and upwards by it—a tree that grew bigger than the trees on the normal Earth. Negaduck kept his eyes open, taking in every second of this extraordinary transformation. Where once the land had been dry and craggy, fresh green grass grew, and even a river flowed. Where once the air had been harsh and hot—now a cool and gentle breeze blew. Wildflowers now could be seen everywhere up to the horizon that had just minutes ago been unforgiving. Bees buzzed lazily, drunk on the wildflowers, and Negaduck could hear the syrupy-sweet tweeting of song birds.

Still caught up in a high tree, Negaduck looked around, for once with nothing to say. This place wasn't hell, it was paradise.

"Hiya there!" Said a high-pitched, ingratiatingly cute voice. "You look sad and lonely. Wanna be my friend?"

Negaduck suppressed the nervous tick in his eye and looked over to his right.

"I'm Sweetie! What's your name?"

The adorable voice belonged to an even _more _adorable little chestnut-brown squirrel that was clinging to the trunk of Negaduck's tree, blinking at him curiously upside down. So chipper so early in the morning. Sweetie Squirrel's cute curly tail twitched side to side in an excitement that can only come from meeting new friends, and her warm brown liquid eyes shimmered just right in almost uncontained expectation.

Before anything else happened (before Negaduck began looking for weapons), other dainty little heads began popping out of holes in the tree. Apparently, it was an apartment, and the old oak was alive with the high-pitched chattering voices of hundreds of curiously friendly squirrels, all wanting to greet and get a good look at their new visitor, who would of course become one of their bestest friends.

"_Hiya"!_

"_Hiya!"_

"_What's Your name?"_

"_What's Your name?" _

"_Been here long?" _

"_Know how to climb trees?" _

"_Wanna play?" _

"_Like nuts?" _

"_Nice to meet you!"_

_I like you!_

"_Let's be friends!"_

"_Know hide and seek?" _

The Disney-fied squirrels were all over Negaduck, chattering, jumping on him, attempting to feed him, combing his hair, inviting him to hide-and-seek, hopscotch, and games of tag. Even you may have done what Negaduck did, who broke into a loud, involuntary howl. Yes, Morgana, who apparently has not entirely lost her sadistic streak, made no mistake at all when she devised the perfect personal hell for Negaduck.

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!"


	3. CH 2: When to Walk Away, and When to Run

CHAPTER 2: When to Walk Away, and When to Run

"What were you thinking, asking her to do that?! I know you put her up to saving that thug!! She could have died, Drake!!"

Drake's conscience smote him mercilessly as he wandered the darkness of his home, reliving Launchpad's angry accusations. Which image was more disturbing: Avian lying in Launchpad's arms bloodstained and exhausted, or his close friend and partner, more livid than anyone had ever seen him? Only Morgana's calming intervention that night saved Drake from a beating, because he would have taken it.

Launchpad didn't know the half of it. Darkwing had killed once before, and it was getting easier now. Drake knew the snakelike gangster he crossed swords with hadn't just been hurt, he was gone, and so was Darkwing when Avian selflessly gave up the last of her strength to wrench him back into this world.

Drake climbed the stairs wearily. Darkwing's request to save the gangster's life just tumbled out of him. Nobody had the right to ask so much of anyone, and certainly not the wife of his best friend. Drake's conscience burned all the more painfully when he thought of how he had so casually overstepped his place. Somehow...he was sure he wouldn't have to say anything to Avian, but there was nothing he could say to Launchpad that could cover this.

_"Let me be your sidekick!"_

How different Launchpad had looked tonight compared to that young, nieve pilot Drake met six years ago. Back then, Darkwing told Launchpad "No" flat out, but he eventually crumbled. Sure, Darkwing sometimes felt guilty about his decision to allow Launchpad to stay, but this time, like every other, he always had an excuse for his selfish actions:

Launchpad needed a friend, Morgana was anything but helpless anyway, and somebody had to adopt Gosalyn.

Now Darkwing Duck (the self-proclaimed loner) was surrounded by loved ones who wouldn't hesitate to do _anything he asked._

Drake shook his head in disgust.

_"I quit."_

Like every night since he'd known her, Drake walked the long hallway to Gosalyn's room. He navigated the typical minefield of sports gear, booby traps, and schoolbooks littering the floor. Drake sat down in the chair by his daughter's bed, watching her engage in the usual sleep fakery...at least for a while.

"Hi Dad." The girl finally said sleepily, opening her eyes to her dad's silhouette in the dim window.

"You okay sweetie?" Asked Drake quietly. Gosalyn nodded and closed her eyes.

Gosalyn was fifteen. It now seemed to Drake that she'd grown up in an instant. He sighed deeply.

"Gosalyn, you don't need me coming in to check on you anymore."

Gosalyn was nearly asleep. There was no need to worry once she saw

Darkwing.

"I'll need you... even when I'm a hundred." Mumbled Gosalyn, yawning.

"Goodnight Gos."

Drake fought to keep his composure as he walked down the corridor and back down the stairs. He sat down in the "magic" green chair in his living room, and once again punched Basil on the head. How many more times was he going to do this?

Darkwing Tower, high above the Audubon Bay, stood like a silent sentinel over the City of St. Canard. Despite its somewhat formidable appearance, it was a comforting place to Darkwing: It protected him like a sanctuary, more so at least than 537 Avian Way. Drake had a special set of nightmares devoted to one of his enemies finding _that _house. Yet, it was the biggest set-piece in Drake Mallard's veneer of normalcy, wasn't it?

It was cool in Darkwing Tower and it rang with the sound of waves on the sea and traffic from the city below. Not to mention the humming of

Darkwing Duck's computers and surveillance equipment. Dismantling all of this stuff would be a stressful and heartbreaking experience, yet together and whole, they'd pose too much of a temptation. Drake unplugged it all.

"Dark, I think we all ought to take a vacation."

Drake tuned around quickly. He had thought Morgana to be in the house asleep. She had to be exhausted too.

Morgana continued, gliding forward. "It's been a long time since we've had one...too long, and I think Launchpad and Avian ought to come as well."

Drake observed his wife, her lovely features tired and worried. Would she have been better off without him?

Morgana had rarely seen her husband look so distressed. It was alarming to see him like this. He was usually so vibrant, buoyant, confident and alive. She longed to comfort him, but before she could, Drake said

"Morgue, are you happy...have you been happy all these years with me?"

The fact Drake felt awful right now and was asking these existential questions, moved Morgana deeply. She knew Drake had taken that poisoned fang for her. She knew he had essentially died that night. She knew Drake regretted many of the things he'd done, she knew he doubted whether his relationship with Launchpad would ever be the same, and she knew how impossible it would be to extract Darkwing from Drake, even if she wanted to.

"Honey, if I was unhappy, you'd know it."

"I would!"

They really tried to fight it, but that just made it funnier. Soon they were laughing so hard for so long, they were both wiping tears from their eyes.

Morgana hugged her ribs. "Oh, my sides hurt." She handed Drake her handkerchief.

BzzzzzzzzZZZZZZzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzz!

Then Morgana and Drake heard the unmistakable sound of the Flashquack flying in their direction. For one wild second, Drake thought of shooting the thing down. He quickly tied a red mask around his eyes. He felt Morgana take his arm. A screen opened on the tiny plane, and a familiar voice inquired "Darkwing Duck?"

"Sorry Director." Drake heard himself say. "I don't recognize that name."

J. Gander leaned back in his leather office chair thoughtfully. "Well, that is unfortunate, seeing as I hoped to speak with him one last time."

J. Gander pulled from his desk a long object wrapped in fabric. "But what _do_ I say to someone who has been my friend for years, yet, I've never really known? How can I express my appreciation to someone who I may never see again, and how do I return this rather impressive sword to someone with no forwarding address?

Drake's face prickled uncomfortably. "I don't know, director. I'm just an ordinary citizen, but in my opinion, you should keep the sword."

"I can't imagine what use it could be to me."

"How 'bout 'letter opener?"

J. Gander smiled, and Drake smiled back shrugging.

"Just a suggestion."

The SHUSH director unsheathed the _jian_, looking the _"Emerald Fate"_ over thoughtfully. "Chinese...extremely old...Qin Dynasty probably, and this blade...fashioned from a meteorite. Sharp... beautiful. Good Lord, this thing is priceless! Why would Darkwing leave such a treasure?"

There was a pause.

"Darkwing Duck isn't worthy to wield it." Said Drake dispassionately.

Besides, 'live by the sword, die by it', y'know what I mean?"

J.Gander leaned forward, and fixed Drake with a penetrating look that

Drake couldn't quite read. "I sincerely hope so." He said warmly.

The old man wrapped the blade up again, and locked it back in his enormous desk. "Nonetheless, I think I'll keep it on standby for a while. Letter openers are extremely useful, and...perhaps one of these days, Darkwing will humor an old goose once more, and we'll see each other without masks."

"You will. I promise." Said Drake.

The next morning was a gorgeous spring day. Summer was almost there, and unrealistically fun vacations occupied the dreams of many of the citizens of St. Canard. The paperboy hadn't hauled himself out of bed at four in the morning for the past eight months for nothing. Now he had enough saved up for a trip to Disneyworld. It is with that knowledge that he smiled and threw his papers on the suburban porches of Avian Way with renewed love for duck kind. There would be no window- shattering morning editions today! The boy's head was so filled with images of riding on "Splash Mountain" and "Tower of Terror", that he hadn't even glanced at the headlines at all.

"Coffee! Coffee!" demanded a zombified Drake Mallard, as he dragged himself to the kitchen. It'd have to be espresso again today too. After a few seconds of guzzling what was in the coffee pot, Drake sprang to life and could finally speak in complete sentences. He could hear Gosalyn still snoring upstairs. In a while he'd have to wake the dead to get Gosalyn to school on time, seeing as she didn't have any games today. In the past, the routine would be to turn on the TV and flip between news stations. That's what Darkwing Duck would do. Instead, Drake just stood in the kitchen, looking out the window. It was nice to experience quiet (Gosalyn snorted loudly in her sleep) well, relative quiet in the morning. Nothing was clamoring for Drake's attention, there was no reason to spring into action. He was just a person, someone who could perhaps live out the rest of his days in peace, not gambling with the lives of those around him. Maybe Drake would keep up with his Quack Fu, if for nothing else than to avoid getting fat. Martial arts released tension. What else do retired superheroes do?

Normal guys read the morning paper, so that's where Drake decided to begin his new life. Out on the porch, the paper had unraveled and Drake picked it up. He waved at the neighbor across the street, and glanced innocently at the morning edition.

"_No!"_

"**SHUSH DIRECTOR SLAIN, SENIOR SCIENCE ADVISOR MISSING"**


	4. Chapter 3: Nightlife in the Negaverse

**THE NEGAVERSE**

**St. Canard**

**Two Years After the Battle for St. Canard**

_Sssshhhhh_

The faint whisper of an artist's spray can could barely be heard among the eerie whine of a dark Negaverse night. To the young man painting, it was a good sound. It would be easy to dismiss the boy's work as mere vandalism, if he weren't so talented. He should have been in school and under the wing of an older, more experienced artist who could give him guidance and advice. A mentor who worked in a more "respectable" medium. But this boy had his own personal reasons for working alone, and for breaking the law.

_Ssshhhhhh_

After the absence of everyone's favorite megalomaniac could no longer be kept a secret, there was war, and there had been plenty of thugs waiting in the wings to fill the Negaduck-shaped mold in the world. If "President" Grizzlikoff "filled in" any more he'd explode. Nowadays, St. Canard was fairly stable in a Soviet police-state sort of way. Even in the Negaverse, Grizzlykoff was Grizzlikoff. He'd done everything by the book, if down the barrel of a gun, and so he became president. All the decent people had been too afraid to vote.

_Shhhhhhhh_

The disappearance of Negaduck had planted a seed of hope in the hearts of the citizens of St. Canard, especially the young. This particular young one was simply expressing himself in the medium that came naturally to him. Getting away with it would prove to be much more difficult.

"Allright Rembrandt! Put your hands up where I can see 'em!"

Red-handed was the only way the boy could be caught. He was a cardinal! The 14-year-old kid raised his crimson hands ever so slowly, the tiny device in his beak ready to be squeezed at just the right moment. Two policemen were closing in on either side of the cardinal closer and closer.

He shut his eyes and bit down hard.

**WheeeeeEEEEEE BOOOM!" Klackity clackity clackity clack! SheeeeeeeeEEEEE Booom! BOOM!**

Hundreds of firecrackers exploded from the cardinal's nearby backpack, careening and pinwheeling dangerously in every direction, spitting lots of smoke, sparks, and fire!

The boy barreled past the policemen in the commotion, hurdled over a chain-link fence, and ran down a dark alley, ducking into an adjacent slum apartment building. The boy breathed heavily as neighborhood dogs barked in the noise. The police would know he was in the area. He had to get out of there before even more police came.

_...Your cheatin' heart will make you weep  
You'll cry and cry and try to sleep  
But sleep won't come the whole night through  
Your cheatin' heart will tell on you..._

Meanwhile, lazily rounding the corner was an old pickup truck. Its cargo? A sty of fat, sleeping pigs. Its driver? Darkwing would have recognized him. Duane, or rather, the Negaverse version of him was dozing behind the weathered wheel. His eyes opened periodically to give a brief snapshot of the road ahead while Hank Williams droned from the radio.

_Baboom!_

Nega-Duane jolted from his sleep. He looked in his rear view mirrors. He was alone. The street lights flashed yellow.

"Pothole or somethin'" he mumbled, turning the corner.

The boy sat still and silent in the truck bed for a long time, not daring to make a move or a sound, even as the sun rose and pigs nuzzled his face with their tickly snouts. It was only after Duane had driven nearly to the edge of town that the boy smiled and patted the pigs grunting happily on either side of him.

"Don't know what y'all're so happy about." The cardinal said. "You're on the road to bacon city."

One of the pigs squealed uncertainly.

"You don't wanna know."

The teenager crawled to the back of the truck, and opened it.

"That's all I can do for you. Sorry. You're the best company I've had in a long time."

And with that, the boy hopped off the truck.

After a while of sticking to the shadows, and just when he began to know where he was...

"_Aaaaah!"_

The cardinal felt a searing, sharp pain that started in his back and with lightning speed, shot throughout his whole body.. The boy fell over on his face with a thud. Behind his felled victim was a member of Grizzlikoff's secret police, still holding his stun gun.

"You're lucky he wants you alive."

Nega-St. Canard's early risers awoke to get as much work done as possible. Curfew ended at sunrise. Some earlybirds were in for a visual treat as they passed a wall of an abandoned urban lot: a beautifully painted mural depicting The Friendly Five, Darkwing Duck, and a young girl who the resistance nicknamed "The Princess." These were the people who stood for hope in the bleak Negaverse. Apparently, someone thought hope still had a chance.


	5. CH 4: The Lion, the Bear, and the Jaguar

_Author Note: Please forgive me for the incredibly long wait between segments of this story. I didn't want to continue, until I knew what what direction the story needed to go. Well, we are back, with more faithful updates. Yet, are there any faithful readers left? _

**CHAPTER 4: The Lion, the Bear and the Jaguar**

Sinister and serpentine, a long row of cars flowed into a gentle suburb of St. Canard. Silently they rolled along, past sleepy lanes and quaint cul-de-sacs, towards an unremarkable little home on Avian Way.

"_YAAAAAAAWWN!!"_

Gosalyn was awake and yawning in a gloriously unladylike fashion. Few look their best first thing in the morning, but Gosalyn managed a sort of fierce, obnoxious beauty, crowned with a tangled mane of bright red hair as she staggered downstairs in her nightshirt. The kitchen was silent, cool, blue, and lonely like kitchens can be in the morning. Judging from the remains of about a dozen espresso "God-shots" littering the counter, dad had been there recently.

So, where's the bacon, the scrambled eggs, orange juice, hash browns, French toast, and pancakes drowning in rivers of maple syrup? Where was breakfast?

Where was Dad for that matter?

Gosalyn poured herself a solitary bowl of _New Super Marshmallow Explosion Frosty-O's_ and munched them sourly. Had something happened last night? Gosalyn gobbled up the last of her cereal, and marched upstairs. She peeked into the master bedroom, and saw a mound of sheets that could more or less be identified as "Morgana." Archie muttered in his sleep from a web in the far corner of the room. Eek and Squeak hung from the ceiling light, breathing in an adorably high-pitched way.

Gosalyn spun around to her room, instinctively dodged her homemade booby traps, and opened her window. Right next door was the bedroom window of Herb "Honker" Muddlefoot Jr, the unlikely progeny of Herb Sr. and Binky Muddlefoot.

"HEY HONK! AREN'T YA UP YET?!

Honker felt around for his glasses on the nightstand and pulled his window open.

"Now...yeah. He said with his low voice.

"Sorry." Said Gosalyn.

Honker rolled out of bed and stood up, which was an impressive move. To say the boy had had a growth spurt was an understatement, and he was still growing. Gone were the days of schoolyard bullies, including Tank. Honker had more daunting things to think about No matter how inconvenient or abrasive Gosalyn's demands may be on any particular day, Honker did his best to help her, because unfortunately, Honker loved Gosalyn.

"Honk, will you check the news?"

"Can't you just watch CNN like everyone else?"

"_Y e a h," _Said Gosalyn slowly, but you get all the news at once, and your setup is all cool and futuristic, and right next door..."

"Wait a second." Honker smiled.

Honker woke his sleeping computers, each one on all sorts of official news feeds...Honker blinked incredulously in the glare of the screens.

"So, what does it say?" Called Gosalyn.

Honker opened his window wide, looking troubled. "Have you seen your dad today?"

"No, but he was here earlier, and I know something went on last night, not that anybody's in a hurry to tell me--"

"The news says, J. Gander Hooter's dead."

"WHAT!! "HOW?"

"Shhh, it says he was killed last night, the details haven't been released."

"Gosalyn?!" Called Morgana as she came into the room. "What's wrong?"

Gosalyn turned around, unaware she had begun to cry.

"The news today...they say J. Gander's...dead. It's got to be a mistake, right?"

Morgana turned even paler and said "Your father and I just saw J. Gander a few hours ago."

"Dad's not here!" Gosalyn blurted out.

"He probably left to find out what happened." Said Honker.

Just then, they all noticed a rumbling noise. Gosalyn, Honker, and Morgana leaned out of their windows to see an ominous looking string of black vehicles winding down the street towards the house.

Darkwing's motorcycle zipped down the highway, rapidly closing the gap between himself and SHUSH headquarters. Darkwing took little notice of the reckless way he weaved through the early morning traffic.

Even after all he'd seen (and he'd seen too much), news of J. Gander's death felt so unreal to Drake. The one unmovable, unshakable rock of Darkwing Duck's entire career had been J. Gander, Who had been there and was always there and who had just been talking and laughing with Drake hours ago. And now the man was gone, just like that. His friend to whom Drake would now never be able to keep his promise. Drake Mallard had no power, but maybe Darkwing Duck had just enough clout to be allowed to know the details...

Several sleek black BMW's silently trailed Darkwing's motorcycle as it wound its' way into the city. The cars became more and more numerous, joining their fellows, the closer Darkwing got to SHUSH central. Darkwing was within a few blocks when they made their move.

At first, Darkwing had been ignoring the BMW's he saw trailing and getting ready to flank him. They looked like they could be SHUSH cars...Darkwing thought they might have been mob cars if he hadn't just dismantled the mob. Suddenly, the cars pulled forward quickly, and Darkwing used some real fancy driving to narrowly avoid being boxed in.

Tires squealing, the black cars wheeled around and sped after Darkwing's Ratcatcher as it left a slippery oil slick and shot like a bullet down a side street.

"Time to go off-road!"

Drake reared up onto the sidewalk and up a wide cement staircase in the financial district, swiping past a few file-toting yes-men, sending their documents and lattes flying.

"Sorryofficialbusinesscitizens!"

A few of the BMW's moved to cut Darkwing off on the other side of the block, but Darkwing jumped his motorcycle onto the thick stone railing, and sailed over the cars, hightailing it down a narrow walkway in a blinding cloud of blue smoke. Following the Ratcatcher had consequences!

Darkwing sharply turned left and weaved again through thicker traffic on their mundane way to work, swerved right, and was seemingly in the clear, before the BMW's were hot on his tail again, swarming around him in the downtown shopping district.

The Ratcatcher spun around in the middle of a shopping square as it was quickly surrounded. SHUSH agents got out of the cars.

"Get off your vehicle and put your hands up!"

"_Riiiiiiight."_

Drake's bike threw up an enormous cloud of smoke, and Darkwing was about to make a suicide break for it when a sleek blue Jaguar careened through the line of SHUSH agents, bowling several of them over. It wheeled around and screeched to a halt in Drake's path.

"Darkwingk! Get in!"

At once, Drake dived through the passenger window, while Agent Grizzlikoff's Jaguar leapt forward, SHUSH agents close behind.

What the hell's going on Griz?! Yelled Darkwing, as they bounded down the street.

"This is no time for explainings." Said Grizlikoff, thick bear fur askew, looking even more huge and alarming than the night before. "SHUSH is havingk problems."

"No kidding--"

BANG! BANG!

"They're shooting at us?! They're _shooting at us!!_" Said Drake, incredulous one moment, and _really pissed off _the next. He drew his gas gun and carefully aimed out the passenger window.

BOOM! The front tire of a pursuing car exploded, sending the car tumbling. Many other cars snowballed in the chain reaction.

"Where are you going?" Drake demanded.

"I haf nowhere to go. I vas hopingk you had a plan." Said Grizzlikoff. "You escaped the authorities like this before."

"Well this scenario _looks_ vaguely familiar."

_Pop!_ Suddenly, a piece of paper popped into existence and landed in Darkwing's lap. A note from Morgana:

**DO NOT GO HOME.**

**MEET US AT DARKWING'S.**

"You think you can get us to the Bay?" Darkwing asked.

"If you hold them off." Said Grizlikoff, tires squealing.

"Right. Unbuckle your seatbelt and unlock the doors."

The blue expanse of the bay opened up ahead of them, and Grizzlikoff floored his BMW. Then from the left, a police chopper roared into deafening view.

"No way."

The helicopter opened fire, and everything shattered. The windshield became a jagged rain of glass, the seats reduced to nothing but shreds, the hood peppered and gashed with bullets. It caught on fire.

Holed up deep into the car, Drake watched as Grizzlikoff gripped the steering wheel with one bloody hand, huge body curled up as small as possible. He felt the jarring bumps of the pier, and then, they were in the air; tires spinning uselessly.

"Deep breath!"

And then, the truly frightening plunge into the cold waters. The bay rushed greedily into the auto as it sank rapidly. And the dark, unforgiving sea laid claim to Grizzlikoff's broken and beloved car as it had done before to so many others.


	6. CH 5: The End of the World as We Know It

CHAPTER 5:

THE NEGAVERSE

TWO YEARS AND TWO DAYS AFTER THE BATTLE FOR ST. CANARD

The cardinal hadn't slept for two days. His tormentors had made sure of that. The cardinal was pretty happy though, happy that he hadn't betrayed the names of any of the people he knew were against Comrade Grizzlikoff's brutal regime. Not yet anyway. Enduring this transparent session of "good cop, bad cop" was the least he could do.

"I don't understand you, comrade."

"I needed to expand my subject matter."

"You ran away from home, injured two policemen, committed gross acts of vandalism, and were caught spreading counter revolutionary propaganda! Everyone knows there is no such person as Darkwing Duck!" Snarled the "bad cop" secret policeman who leaned in across the table at the teenage boy.

"If he's not real, then why does it matter if he's painted on some ghetto building?"

"I am not the one under interrogation here! Said the bulldog-like interrogator, pounding his fist on the table. "Whether Darkwing Duck is real or not is inconsequential. He is a symbol of ignorant people's vain and evil aspirations. His image stirs up anti-government sentiment! You know this!

"_Please." _ The other birdlike, sympathetic policeman begged, "You have such talent and potential. You have done such wonderful work for the Revolution already.Don't throw it all away. You're still just a boy."

The man produced a piece of paper.

"Sign this form, renouncing all your counterrevolutionary ways, and you can go home. What's more, I can see to it that you have a full scholarship to the university of your choice. You will never have to worry about your future."

"Fail to sign it," Added the other interrogator, we cut off that hand, and send you to work in the labor camps. In the Arctic, there's not much use for pretty pictures."

The cardinal looked down at the form, knowing it was a filthy thing. He knew from experience, simply signing it would not be enough. He would have to name names in order to be free from these people's harassment.

As the policemen continued to threaten the him, a faint sound that the cardinal only **just** heard grew louder and louder. First the ground,the building, and then the entire world seemed to shake, and great clumps of cement fell onto the floor of the basement interrogation room.

The cardinal could hear people screaming above, and from the barred windows he could see Comrade Grizzlikoff's men scurrying around. The sky began to churn, and the clouds were filled with an unearthly orange light. Was this the end of the world?! The thought crossed the red bird's mind as he and his interrogators were thrown to the floor in the violent upheaval, the building threatening to collapse upon them at any moment.

Enormous, stabbing yellow beams of light shot through the sky. There was a moment of terrible silence, and then a moment of terrible noise when a gigantic, city-sized spaceship pierced the clouds above St. Canard, its colossal weight and size throwing the whole of the city into premature night. The terror was something to behold, and the cardinal's tormentors forgot all about their prisoner, and ran upstairs, leaving the boy free to die under the SHUSH building that was sure to land on him.

The great alien ship hovered above the city for what seemed like a long time, though it may have only been a few seconds. The scale of it was incredible. The entire city of St. Canard seemed to draw a collective breath as a round portal in the bottom of the enormous disc- like ship opened. It looked like the end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a sickening crunch and splintering of wood when the police battering ram smashed through Drake Mallard's front door. The police poured over the threshold and into the Mallard family home like a swarm of insects. The policemen's thick rubber boots roughly tramped onto Drake's floors and into his living room, and upstairs to the bedroom he and Morgana shared, and into Gosalyn's room, (where some unfortunate souls encountered booby traps) and into what had been Launchpad's room, and through all the places where private scenes of 537 Avian Way took place.

Family pictures and a statue of Basil bore witnesses to the violation of the Mallard home. Morgana Macabre-Mallard caught an angry glimpse of the shadows of two SHUSH agents tramping into _her_ room, having ushered both Honker and Gosalyn through the closet door. With her magic, Morgana was instantly miles away with the children. And in a moment, there was nothing particularly interesting about 537 Avian Way at all.

"Are you absolutely sure the Mallards are home?" asked an exasperated police detective as he interrogated Herb and Binky Muddlefoot next door at their kitchen table.

"A' course." Said Herb, throwing back yet another donut. "Me an' Drake go way back, and his Gosalyn an' my Honkster are best friends."

Binky shook her head vigorously. "Oh yes." She said in her high, innocent voice. "They walk to school together every day."

"Where is your son now?" Said the Police officer, growing more and more impatient by the moment.

"I don't know, I certainly didn't see him come downstairs, did you Herb?" Squealed Binky.

"I dunno Binkums. Honk leaves early for school sometimes, though—guess he gets a head start on all that extra quantum physics school work he does. Say," Said Herb to the policeman who now had his face in his hands. "Are you gonna eat that last donut?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Bay Bridge tower elevator whined and shook its way upward while Agent Grizzlikoff caught his breath. Darkwing Duck wrung the seawater from his fedora.

"Well...SHUSH doesn't seem inclined to help me with my investigation." Said Darkwing conversationally. He looked up at the surly, dripping wet mountain that was Vladimir Grizzlikoff and added,

"There aren't a bunch of your guys waiting to ambush us once we get to the top, right?"

Grizzlikoff looked down at the shivering, diminutive, irritating little imp who had been the bane of his existence for so many years, and felt (infuriatingly), something like affection.

"Belief me, if there are ambush guys, they're not _mine _Mr. Duck."

"Heh! Nuthin' but love, Griz."

The elevator finally stopped inside the top chamber of the Bay Bridge. Darkwing drew his gas gun and peered into the silence. His computers and all his equipment were gone. It made the large cavernous space seem even more so.

Suddenly, a beam of magic flew past Darkwing on his right, and hit Grizzlikoff square in the chest. It seemed to freeze him right on the spot, and then Drake heard Morgana in her darkest and most commanding voice call to him.

"DARKWING DUCK! WHAT IS YOUR SECRET AMBITION?

A security question.

Drake kept his shaking knees together and said, "T-to be a r-rock star, of course. What greater celebrity is there?"

Morgana appeared before Darkwing in all her ghoulish glory, and demanded, observing the still-immobile Grizzlikoff coldly;

"Why is _he_ here?" 

_Good question." _Drake thought, for it had been without much thought that he had willingly jumped into the car of Vladimir Grizzlikoff', someone who in light of recent events, was the enemy.

"We were running in the same direction." Said Darkwing, as he watched Gosalyn and Honker appear anxiously from behind a bridge support. "Let me guess; SHUSH and the police came to the house, and not to borrow a cup of sugar."

Gosalyn nodded. "Dad, they busted the house in broad daylight! They don't care if everybody knows who you are!"

"Yeah, but why?"

Honker adjusted his glasses nervously and said, Er, you see...you're the prime suspect in the murder of J. Gander Hooter."

"Any reason why?" Said Drake, in a oddly monotone voice.

"I don't know sir."

There was a moment of silence. Honker, expecting Darkwing to take the news badly, was surprised to hear the vigilante_ laugh._

"Darkwing Duck, the Darkwing Duck—_kill_ J. Gander! HA!

Drake then paused and repositioned his body, studying the petrified statue of Vladimir Grizzlikoff with mild interest and said, "We need to get out of here. It's not safe even here. We're taking Grizzlikoff, and we're going to make him tell us everything he knows."

"What are you thinking, Drake?" Said Morgana, ignoring the bearcicle beside her.

"I think... there's been some sort of takeover at SHUSH. I get the impression Grizzlikoff saw, heard, or did something he wasn't supposed to, and now he's a marked man. We were running for our lives from his own agents, and he said (Drake scratched his head at the oddness of the statement) he had nowhere to go. I think Griz has some answers to this mystery."

Morgana, still quite suspicious of Grizzlikoff after her ordeal at Avian Way, sighed impatiently. "Fine. we're all going to Macabre Manor. After this foolishness is over, (Morgana ignored Drake's imploring look), I'm erasing that agent's memory."

Drake shook his head fondly. He knew he couldn't win that round.

Gosalyn and Honker looked at each other. Did the adults not realize their life on Avian Way was over?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The police and SHUSH agents stood at attention on Drake Mallard's front lawn at the approach of a long, black limousine. A figure stepped out of the car and walked it's way past the Mallard mailbox with the crooked flag, and up the driveway path to the front door.

Taking a meaningful step forward into the house, the intruder looked to the walls in the living room, specially captivated by the smiling family photos of the Mallard family. He picked up an especially interesting picture in a nice frame. The figure crossed the room and reclined comfortably in a green armchair, patting Basil's head.

The figure studied the photo containing the smiling faces of Morgana, and Gosalyn, Launchpad, Avian, and of course, Drake Mallard.

After that tender moment, Negaduck pulled out his favorite large wooden cartoon mallet, and promptly began to demolish the place.

"Over the years, I feel there's been some_ confusion_about just who is master of this world."

Negaduck said this three years earlier, while coolly surveying the panicking masses of the Negaverse underneath his flying saucer. Every metal surface in St. Canard seemed to ring with Negaduck's voice, unbearably loud. His image projected on a massive screen under the disc.

"All I hear is 'Comrade Grizzlikoff' this, and 'Comrade Grizzlikoff' that." Negaduck said wearily. "Where's the fun in having some stiff-ass bear as your leader? Great Satan! You leave town for a couple 'a years, and everything falls apart. You Commies have no imagination."

Lasers shot from the spaceship and landed on the gray concrete slab that was Grizzlikoff's government headquarters. It promptly disintegrated like it was nothing.

"Welp, I'd say it was high time for a regime change. Time to bring color back to the Negaverse. In case you haven't figured it out yet kids, I'M BAAAACK!


	7. Chapter 6: At the McQuacks

Launchpad kept faithful watch over his wife as she lay in a dead sleep for nearly two days. Today, the blush returned to her cheeks, and hopefully she would wake soon.

No one had called or stopped by in two days, and Launchpad hadn't bothered with the world outside either.

Tenderly, Launchpad looked down at Avian as she breathed deeply in her sleep. When she woke, she would start to fuss about him, and try to get him to talk to Drake again. She would apologize to him for being "weak"!

Avian looked so angelic with her golden tan feathers, and golden brown hair. The sunlight from the window made her_ glow_. How good it was to see her in the sun again!

It sounded strange to say, but Launchpad really missed her. They _saw_ each other almost every day, but lately both of them had been so busy with fighting crime, SHUSH assignments, and just the generally weird situations they got into, not to mention the fact their house was a regular meeting place, and so often full of people...

How long had it been since the two of them had been out flying, just for fun?

Gosh. It felt like forever.

Launchpad knew he didn't have it in him to hold a grudge or stay angry for long. This annoyed Launchpad. That was the worst part. He had felt his rage deflating the moment he socked Drake, and he just took it like some sad, wounded puppy right after defending himself against a bunch of gun-toting gangsters with a _sword. _

Launchpad had been more frightened and humiliated than angry. Exploding at Drake (the healthiest person in the room, thanks to Avian) was a release. It had been awful to witness what was going on inside Avian's mind as she teetered on the edge, herself terrified. And Launchpad could do nothing to help her or Drake at all. Still, to kill a guy and ask Avian to perform a miracle to bring him back? Drake knew this would threaten her life too, and she still probably wouldn't say no. Drake had gambled. He hadn't counted on needing a miracle himself.

"Hey you."

Launchpad was the first thing Avian saw when she opened her eyes. She smiled and reached out to stroke his face. She knew he'd been watching over her.

Launchpad closed his eyes at her touch. He could barely see anyway.

"I'm fine. I'm really fine. Sorry for being a burden to you." Said Avian affectionately. "Toldja I just need a little rest."

"You've been out for two days." Said Launchpad, taking Avian's hand.

"Really? Thank you for looking after me."

"I said not to overdo it." Said Launchpad heatedly.

Avian glanced out the sunlit window by her bed. "Had your fight with Drake yet?"

Launchpad said nothing, but strode across the room to another window.

Avian pulled her i.v. from her arm distractedly, sliding out of bed. She slipped her arms around her husband, hugging him from behind.

Launchpad frowned at the pale blue sky outside. "I bet he didn't even think about it."

"He _thinks_ about everything, honey. Who else could he have called?"

Yeah, I know he's smart...and calculating. He needed you to save his own skin."

"I didn't sense that from him...a spirit of trying to worm out of punishment. But you don't need me to tell you that. You know his character. You are best friends, and you love each other." Avian reminded.

Launchpad grunted.

"I think...he'll even beg for our forgiveness Launchpad." Avian smirked. "Get ready. It's not everyday you'll see such a display of humility from Darkwing Duck."

Launchpad said nothing, and Avian couldn't help but feel shame as she hugged her husband close. _ "Your spirit is heavy with so many worries now." _

The pilot turned around to face Avian, taking her gently by the shoulders.

"Don't think that. It's not your fault."

"You are sweet." Smiled Avian quietly. "Of course it's my fault. It's because of me you suffer like this. Do you mean to say you didn't hear me blubbering the other night?" Said Avian conversationally.

Launchpad knew Avian was talking about that night at the Pink Elephant. Drake was dead before he'd hit the floor, and Avian was terrified...but she calmly used all her strength and power to bring him back. Launchpad experienced the whole thing right along with her.

"I don't remember any _blubbering,_" Said Launchpad, teasing. "I remember knowing you love me though." Said Launchpad, his smile broadening. "By the way...it's okay to be weak sometimes."

"Well... will you undress and bathe me right now? I'm weak! Said Avian slyly.

"Don't you wanna eat something first?" Exclaimed Launchpad incredulously, his voice cracking.

"Man does not live by bread alone." Responded Avian lazily. She paused, her voice suddenly vulnerable, and said "Please I ...need you to touch me, and hold me, and be close to me. I don't want to be alone right now."

Launchpad scooped Avian into his arms and carried her off without another word.


	8. Chapter 7: Princess of the Negaverse

The Princess of the Negaverse

The resistance nicknamed her "The Princess" in reference to her frilly dresses, but little had been seen or heard in five years about the pretty little girl with red ringlets whom Negaduck blessed and cursed with his protection. During Negaduck's reign of terror, there had been plenty of late-night speculation among the ragged citizens of Dark Canard about the girl's identity, and not all of it kosher. Some were ready to kidnap her in exchange for Negaduck's prisoners (those who hadn't yet been executed); still, it was a gamble. Did Negaduck care for anyone that much? If Gosalyn was really Negaduck's daughter, then why hadn't he said so? How could such a sweet child be Lord Negaduck's? Wiser observers theorized Negaduck had simply chosen the most innocent person he could find to subject to his cruel abuse. If so, this was abuse Lord Negaduck reserved for himself alone; none of his thugs had been allowed to look at Gosalyn sideways, let alone touch her. But those things, it seemed were in the past, for Gosalyn had vanished just as completely as Darkwing Duck.

There were rumors though... of the Friendly Five still operating underground...the personal guardians of the princess. They were here and there, involved in an uprising here, an incident there...whether or not this was simply a desperate fantasy, is hard to say. St. Canard was populated mostly by ghosts anyway...all products of some half-remembered beautiful dream.

_Well the shark,babe, _

_has such teeth dear_

_and he shows them_

_pearly white_

_Just a jack knife,_

_has old Macheath dear,_

_and he keeps it out of sight_

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhghhhgh!"_

The trouble with torture is the information you get from it is often complete rubbish.

Negaduck turned the voltage and the music down. He fixed his eyes pitilessly on two of his victims. He waited patiently for them to stop shaking as they hung upside down among the wires that sent white-hot electricity coursing through them.

"Are you kidding me? You were just _pretending_ to be resistance big shots? You're telling me, right now, as I'm about to fry you idiots, that you've never met the princess. That you have no idea where she is."

L....lllll—ord Neg-negaduck p-p-p-please, we were j-just trying to impress some g-girls, we...d-don't know any p-princessaAAAAAAgh!"

_Did you hear about Louie Miller?_

_He disappeared babe_

_after drawing out_

_all his hard-earned cash_

_and now Macheath spends_

_just like a sailor_

_could it be_

_our boys' done something rash? _

The more fortunate of the two young men Negaduck had reduced to little more than burning meat was already dead.

"You don't know any princess, 'don't know any princess'. No one knows any princess. I'm tired of hearing that."

Negaduck turned up the dial on his torture device again. The young fox's screams were useless and inaudible outside the self-contained nightmare that was Negadudck's spaceship.

_Jenny Diver_

_Sukie Tawdry_

_Look out Miss Lotte Lenya!_

_And old Lucy Brown, _

_Now the line forms_

_On the right babe, _

_Now that Mack iiiiiiis_

_back in toooooown!_

_Look out, old Mack is back! _

Negaduck waited patiently again.

"Screw you, you sonofabitch!" Sobbed the wretch, his body on fire, fur burned into his skin.

Negaduck just grinned. "Riiight, you blue-bloods brag all day about what you _don't_ know. You may be as brainless as you say you are, but your mother isn't, I bet."

NO NO! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE PRINCESS IS, BUT---BUT I KNOW THIS KID, HE'S A CARDINAL, HE KNOWS HER. HE'S---HE'S THIS ARTIST WHO USED TO WORK FOR THE PRESIDENT! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEeease!"

Negaduck grew immediately bored with the fox and put him out of his misery with a wet _snap_. The boy's body was thrown down the garbage chute along with the others.

Lord Negaduck emerged from the room of his violent isolation, and strutted down the hallway.

"MORGANA!"

"Yes, Negaduck." Said Nega-Morgana in her sultry voice as she appeared.

"Find me a cardinal kid that made a lot of Grizlikoff's propaganda, and bring him to me."

***

"Who! What! When! Where! Why!" Exclaimed first agent Vladimir Grizzlikoff, as he defrosted in the the parlor of McCabre Manor.

"Hold it SHUSH agent." Said a cold, familiar female voice. "You are in my power. I will not harm you as long as you are cooperative."

Grizlikoff looked around, and was indeed in an old-fashioned house, hurricane lamps quivering in their sconces on the walls, throwing dark, oddly shaped shadows over the furniture. Grizzlikoff was sitting in a high backed chair in the middle of the room. He could not see anyone, but he could hear just fine.

"Why are SHUSH agents after us?" Morgana commanded. "Why has Darkwing Duck been framed for the murder of Director Hooter? Were you sent to spy on us? What do you know about recent events at SHUSH headquarters? Where is Dr. Bellum? TALK!"

"Ms. MaCabre, I vill answer all of your kvestions, as best I can." Said the veteran agent, his accent thick. "I vill tell you everything I have done since we last saw each other."


	9. Chapter 8: The Bear's Beef

First Agent Grizzlikoff's Story

"I quit."

Darkwing turned swiftly on his heel and walked out. The rest of his team followed suit.

DDDDD

The drive home was silent for a while. This in and of itself wasn't unusual: J. Gander had never known Vladimir Grizzlikoff to be much of a conversationalist, and James was pondering the events of this night.

"Director."

"Yes, agent Grizzlikoff?"

"I didn't intend to interfere with Darkwing Duck. I received an anonymous tip that Ricky Parisi would be there tonight, that is all."

"An anonymous tip?"

"Yes. My men made me aware of it, when I was on my way home."

"We'll have to question them on that, seeing as how I certainly didn't hear anything about it until I received your call tonight."

The silence pressed in on the two men, and James spoke again. "Vlad. Have you noticed anything...out of the ordinary about SHUSH lately?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Honestly, Vlad, I'm not sure." Said J. Gander wearily. I wouldn't know how to begin investigating a _feeling_."

"Sir?"

"These little lapses of communication, for instance; this is not the first time this has happened in the last few days, though when I examine them, there is always a valid excuse. But my fears persist that something is wrong internally—though I can't put my finger on what it is or why."

Agent Grizzlikoff was at a loss as to what to say to his old mentor, but...

"Sir, give me permission to conduct a quiet internal investigation for you."

J. Gander sighed. "Very well. Do whatever you think is best. Get some rest, now."

"Yes sir, but ven vill _you_ get some rest?"

"Later, Vlad, later."

LATER

Torn from what had been the promising start to a restful night's sleep, First Agent Grizzlikoff staggered to his front door.

It wasn't unusual for Grizzlikoff to be greeted at four in the morning by the sort of divine inspiration that apparently for Dr. Sara Bellum, could only be had at four in the morning.

As soon as the Russian bear opened the door of his modest home, Sarah was a blur that made a beeline for Gizzlikoff's living room. Without word or pause, Sarah began constructing an odd little contraption of metal and glass from parts she extracted from her bloodstained lab coat.

"Sarah!" Grizzlykoff exclaimed vehemently. Are you hurt?! What has happened!"

"Compromised, compromised!" Said Sarah shrilly to herself as she continued working. It looked like the "mad" portion of the scientist had finally won out.

Grizzlikoff bristled. He had never seen Sarah so agitated, except once.

"Where is James?" Grizzlikoff demanded impatiently.

Idon'tknow,Idon't know. Maybehe'sdead, helookedlikehecouldbe, butouragentswereeverywhere, andhe helped megetaway, andthey'recomingforyou, andyouneedtogetoutofhereandfindDarkwingbeforethey do."

"What? Who?"

Sarah wheeled around in frustration. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! SHUSH IS UNDER ATTACK!"

"By Who? Is it FOWL?

"From the Inside, Vlad." Said Dr. Bellum sanely. "I can't prove it yet, but think; who was the source of our last dopplegangers?"

"Negaduck." Grizzlikoff growled.

Hopefully, James is alive, and Negaduck needs me. With the knowledge in my head, I don't think he'll kill me yet, but I don't know about you."

"Nyet Sarah, I'm not letting you hand yourself over. Especially if the Director helped you escape." Said Grizzlikoff, pulling on his jacket; but he may as well have been talking to a brick wall.

"Find Darkwing, and don't trust anyone. They're all dopplegangers. Ah! speak of the devil." Exclaimed Dr. Bellum pleasantly as a hoard of "SHUSH agents" pulled up in their black cars. The scientist hoisted the now complete glass bazooka onto her delicate shoulder, and ran outside.

"Sarah!"

Sarah fired her gun, which seemed to generate these balls of light. One of them blinded Grizzlikoff.

Next thing he knew, Grizzlikoff found himself standing rather dumbly in his garage, keys in hand. It was quiet. Sarah was gone. There was no one on the street. Vlad really hated all this weird crap. Gosh, what he wouldn't _give_ for a form to fill out. How was he supposed to find Darkwing Duck? Hadn't he just quit? But Grizzlikoff knew he must try. It seems James and Sarah entrusted him with this task. He would carry it out to the end.

By the end of his story, Agent Grizzlikoff had drawn Darkwing and his family close around him.

"So I vent driving around, looking for trouble, and I found you, of course." Explained Grizlikoff gesturing to the masked mallard.

Morgana was using the magic she knew to verify what the agent was saying. There was no indication on her end that he was lying. She would have to trust him for now. "So, you are certain that Negaduck has found his way back." She said, simply.

"That is what Dr. Bellum seems to think. Unfortunately, she's almost always right."

"So you're saying, that SHUSH is under Negaduck's complete control." Stated Drake grimly.

"That...is how it looks. But they are making no moves...they're waiting for something." Grizzlikoff shrugged. " More orders."

"Morgana, the portals between dimensions are all relatively small, right?" Asked Drake.

"Yes." Answered the sorceress. "They are anomalies. They're hard to keep open. None of them are permanent."

Drake closed his eyes when he said "If I was Negaduck (and I nearly am), I would be looking for ways to make larger, or at least many more holes, so I could send an army and weapons through them. He can build up an army on _his_ side without worrying about being bothered, then he can let them all loose in this dimension. By that time, it'll be difficult for us to fight back."

"I have something for you Darkving." Said Grizzlizkoff, who pulled a long object wrapped in black fabric. _The Emerald Fate. _

Drake sighed. "This is gonna be one of those things, right? I'll never be able to get rid of it." Drake unwrapped the sword, and out fluttered a damp, folded piece of yellow paper. Drake opened it, and his heart gave a loud thump to find it was a letter from J. Gander.

**Dear Drake, **

**Yes, I know who you are, and am glad to. **

**I am more proud of you than I can say. **

**You embody many of the things I had hoped for myself, in my younger days.**

**One of my many regrets in life is never having children. **

**I have come to think of you as a son. **

**I am still waiting for us to be able to talk, face to face—not merely as allies,**

**but as friends.**

**Sincerely, **

**James**

Drake read the letter over and over again, his face got hot, and for some reason he was embarrassed. Was this James' way of telling him he was alive in the Negaverse? Ugh. The Negaverse. That is just what Negaduck wanted. For Darkwing Duck to come there with all his family and friends, so they could all get ground up in that open-air insane asylum.

With a kind of apologetic resignation, Drake handed the letter to his wife to read.. Then he went over to Grizzlikoff.

"I think the director is alive, and he's somewhere in the Negaverse." Said Drake. "I need _you_ to find him and Sarah, and bring them back."

Drake somehow had the naive idea that he and Agent Grizzlikoff were friends. He removed his mask, and though Gosalyn and Honker made some guttural sounds, Drake smiled.

"Kind've a let-down, ain't it? He said. "Don't be sad. We'll erase your memory soon enough."

Everyone besides Grizzlikoff laughed.


	10. Chapter 9: Keeping Up with the Mallards

Chapter 9: Catching Up

The rest of the elite superheroes known as the "Justice Ducks" didn't look particularly heroic, having cast themselves out to sea in a tiny dinghy. The further out to sea they got, the fiercer a hurricane raged about them. It seemed though, they were safe, for wherever they moved, they were in the eye of the storm.

"Didn't I tell you it would work? Didn't I?" Said Steggmut, the one with childlike faith intact.

Neptunia muttered unintelligibly, and Gizmoduck kept his visor down, scanning the atmosphere. Amazing. His sensors picked up nothing.

"Well Steggs, if we're not 'in great need', who is?"

Though they still saw nothing, the heroes took some comfort in the fact they had supernatural escort to the rather extraordinary home of Launchpad and Avian McQuack. The bounty hunters who had been pursuing Gizmoduck and his teammates were disoriented and had lost all sense of direction in the mist rolling in from the sea.

The tiny island off the coast where Avian and Launchpad had built their home technically did not exist. As was evidenced earlier, it was thoroughly impossible to get there from the mainland under anything but some specific pretenses. Being a friend in great need was one way to make it. Invitation was another. That's why Launchpad and Avian played host to so many unusual guests and secret meetings. Their place was an excellent one in which to discuss and keep secrets.

Who would think (to look at the inside of the house) that it was such a fortress of secrecy? Inside, it was a home; all golden light, warm woods, and cluttered with calculated charm.

A mobile of tiny biplanes circled lazily overhead as Launchpad and Avian snuggled together on the living room sofa, the remains of dinner on the coffee table. They dozed. Launchpad didn't dare move an inch as his wife held onto him. It was clear she was weaker than she let on. Secretly, it felt good to Launchpad that he could help her now, in this empty house. The location could be considered extreme...but the pilot could totally understand her need to be separate from the world. He felt her heartbeat quicken.

"What is it?" Asked Launchpad.

"Some of our friends are at the door. Will you answer it please, honey?" She said. "They're tired and they're upset. Hungry too I'll bet." She said hurrying to the kitchen. There was more to it than that, of course. Launchpad suspected Avian's wishes for him to speak to people he wasn't ready to would be granted.

Half expecting to see Drake, Launchpad opened his door. Standing anxiously on the porch instead were Gizmoduck, Neptunia, and Stegmutt. Gizmoduck lifted his visor, and spoke to his old friend in his folksy Crackshell voice,

"Sometimes you're a hard man to get a hold of."

"Hey-hey, how're you all doing?" Said Launchpad good -naturedly, ushering the three other heroes inside.

"Er"

"Um"

"Could be better."

"Don't tell me you don't know what's going on." Exclaimed Neptunia impatiently.

"I _don't_ know what's going on." Said Launchpad. "I've been watching Avie and--" Launchpad didn't finish his sentence. He had been resisting the impulse to watch TV, on the chance he might see Darkwing.

"I told you not to tell me."

"H-how is she, by the way?" Asked Gizmoduck, glancing anxiously down the hall.

"She woke up today. She says she's all right but she's not 100% yet." Said Launchpad, as they came into the living room.

Avian emerged from the kitchen with hot soup and sandwiches, carefully hiding her trepidation.

"Hello everyone!" She said breezily. I heard you all coming up, and thought you might be hungry. So...what're you in need of?"

Everyone sat down, and Gizmoduck (Now back to being Fenton) squirmed a little in the presence of the 'mind reader.' "Any chance you know where Darkwing is?" he said a little too nonchalantly.

Launchpad felt himself tense up. "Why? What's happened?"

Fenton shook his head and produced an issue of the _Canardian Guardian:_

"Manhunt continues for fugitive Darkwing Duck"

Launchpad read more, slack jawed. "And people actually believe this?"

"They've got some good evidence against Darkwing this time, and he hasn't tried to contact us." Said Fenton, as if he were discussing the weather. "They're never gonna find Wingy though, if he doesn't want to be found."

"Who's _they?"_ Asked Launchpad. "Is Griz leading this?"

"That's the thing." Said Fenton. What's not being reported in the news is Griz was with Wingy when they disappeared. "We" (Fenton glanced at the enormous Stegmutt, and the brooding Neptunia) "Needed a lucky break ourselves, finding this place. We've been disavowed by SHUSH apparently. Said Gizmoduck in his conversational tone again. "I've been ordered to turn myself in, where I am to be stripped of my gizmo suit."

"For what?" Said Launchpad outraged.

"We're all people of interest in this so-called investigation." Said Neptunia. "Everybody's looking for you too. The Bay Bridge is deserted, and they burned down Drake Mallard's house."

Launchpad stood up.

"They know...but SHUSH wouldn't do that, would they?"

"Of course not. Said Fenton dismissively. There's been...apparently, a coup—but the scary thing is, not from the outside. As far as we can tell, SHUSH still has much the same personnel and leadership it had before-with the exception of J. Gander, Griz, and Dr. Bellum."

Launchpad sat back down. "Do you think it's mind control?"

"I don't think so." Said Neptunia.

"Clones?"

"Maybe, but who has the resources for that?" Said Fenton. "Plus, these "clones" sure seem to know everything they're supposed to know."

Launchpad shut his eyes tightly against the answer, as Steggmutt, Neptunia, Fenton, and Avian said in unison "Negaduck's back."

"But it's different this time, isn't it? He hasn't actually shown up, has he?"

Why show up and get everyone on the defense?" Said Fenton. "He's out specifically to _kill us_, not just antagonize St. Canard. And this time, he's got the whole world helping him."

"We think that's why we haven't heard from Morgana in two days. Said Neptunia. "She doesn't know who to trust..or, something has happened to her."

Fenton winced."Ah, don't say that Tuney."

WELL, what should our next move be?!" retorted Neptunia. "We can't stay here forever! And how are we supposed to protect these idiots (the aquatic woman roughly gestured outside) if they think we're criminals?!"

"I wonder if this is how Mr. Darkwing feels all the time?" Said Stegmutt thoughtfully.

"Fen, drink this, you're in shock." Said Avian, handing Fenton a cup of what looked like tea, but probably potion.

"Neptunia, drink this."

"What is it?"

"A sedative." Said Avian, the corner of her beak barely twitching. "Please eat, and sleep here tonight. She said to everyone. Your usual rooms are waiting. In the meantime, I'll do my best to get a hold of my cousin. Afterwards we can formulate the usual suicidal plan."

"Yay!" Exclaimed Stegmutt. (Though I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what the word 'suicidal' means.)

Being thrown into another fight so soon was the last thing Launchpad wanted. He said nothing for a minute, but in spite of himself felt exited and optimistic surrounded by his friends like this, even if the whole world was against them.

"So, what exactly went down?"

**

Honker Muddlefoot sat on the tatami mats of the training room in Morgana McCabre's infinite house, his long legs akimbo in front of his laptop. He'd been snooping around on the internet, and doing a little careful hacking among other things, like arranging ever-so-anonymously for the safety of his family during this...time. He had sent word that he was all right...but he'd have a lot of explaining to do when he got back, which meant the usual lies, didn't it? The doom and gloom that he'd heard Agent Grizzlikoff explain made Honker unsure if he'd ever get back to how things used to be; but he had faith that together, they could turn things around. How unscientific.

Gosalyn meanwhile, was all business, practicing the Quack Fu she'd learned ever since the battle for St. Canard. She wasn't the little kid she was back then! She defeated _her _arch-enemy two years ago. She was going to help Dad do the same.

Gosalyn remembered when her father first started seriously training her in earnest. She could tell he mostly hated it, especially when she observed how _totaled_ he always seemed afterwards, but during training itself, he was a ruthless martial artist. He showed the side of himself that could be chillingly cruel.

But Gosalyn endured all of it and didn't complain even once. She knew what he had been trying to do.

After one particularly awful training session, Drake ignored his exhaustion as usual and tended to his daughter's injuries. Tenderly, he wrapped her wrist in a bandage, and pressed the ice pack to her forehead.

"Gos. Do you fully comprehend...what it is to take on the same sort of life I have?" Drake said wearily. He didn't particularly wait for an answer but continued. "When you're older and have given it more thought, I'm praying you'll change your mind. In the meantime, please understand that you're being trained to be a lot _better_ than me. You _must_ be better than me in every way."

"Why?" Said Gosalyn, who winced at a tender spot on her head.

"Because, I'm not convinced you share my obscene amount of luck."

**

Morgana Macabre had been preparing all day and into the evening, magically, for would be a difficult inter-dimensional journey. She double-checked, and triple checked the Quackmoronicon's instructions. She drew the appropriate circles and symbols on the cold, stone floor of her lab. She began the complex potion. All signs pointed to the return of Negaduck, despite her very best efforts to keep him locked up, and she'd be lying if she said that it didn't burn up her pride that her plan didn't stick. What had she accomplished but delay this moment? Now this duck burned down _her_ house, and dragged the lives of _her_ family through the mud. What a disgusting creature. All of this had to be brought to an end, and Morgana feared what that end might entail. She yearned for her cousin to talk to and help with this complex, dangerous, (and frankly, illegal) spellwork, but really...she would rather not involve anyone else in this, if she could get away with it. Perhaps Avian would sleep a while longer.

"HAIIII CUZZY!" Came a familiar squeal from Morgana's cauldron. Morgana sighed.

"Wonderful to see you in good health. From the looks of this potion, you're planning on going someplace important. Not without me I hope, 'cuz if you were, I'd give you _such a pinch_. Need any help?"

Morgana couldn't help but smile a little, saying "That's ironic, _cuzzy_, since you've been known to slip away when no one was looking yourself."

"Honestly Morgana, I have no idea what you're going on about." Replied Avian casually. "Anyway, the rest of the gang's at my house, eating all the food, just when Launchpad and I had gotten used to the tranquility. What do you want me to do with them?"

"Keep them as safe as possible, actually."

"I can't contain them Morgana, they're out for blood."

"They're that upset."

"They're not accustomed to the unpopularity your Darkwing enjoys. How's Negaduck, by the way?"

"Well, apparently." Said Morgana darkly.

"So we're the 'Vengeance Ducks' now, Mm? Let's all get together tomorrow and sort things out. See you then. Love love!"

And the "call" ended as abruptly as it began. Yet Morgana nearly always felt better after speaking with her young cousin, if only briefly. "_What reason, PRAYTELL, was there to feel better, now on the eve of war?"_, the sorceress wondered. But she felt lighter somehow. Avian viewed everything from a highly spiritual perspective, and she invited others to do so. The girl never seemed to be overly concerned with what anyone _did_ as much as what they _comprehended. _Avian certainly knew how to wield humor and good cheer to achieve her ends. A wealth of feeling and information had just passed between the two women. Morgana was very happy she had such a weird friend who's life, like her own, straddled many worlds. How lonely would it be otherwise!

**

Taking his guns apart and putting them back together was one way Vlad Grizzlikoff made sense of the world. It was a logical, solid, and tactile machine he could depend upon; much like his beloved Jaguar now at the bottom of the bay. Grizzlikoff had always feared he was a dinosaur. Now (as a guest in the most bizarre house ever), he knew it. Darkwing was at least a _little _crazy, and therefore much better suited to having his way in this new world. But Vladimir Nicholai Grizzlikoff was still First Agent! Dinosaur, disavowed, or even car-less, those responsible for this nightmare would soon experience just how alive he was!

"Darkwing. Will Ms. Macabre _really_ erase my memory?

"Probably." Said Drake, not sounding particularly concerned. "You've seen a great deal of my secrets. I could kill you instead, if you like."

Grizzlikoff knew Darkwing was kidding, but as he had no discernible sense of humor, he merely finished assembling his guns, and watched Drake practice Quack Fu.

To see where they were, one would assume that Drake and Vladimir were outdoors, but they were in another room of the ever-evolving McCabre Manor. As interesting as that sounds, I wouldn't recommend wandering around alone.

As he practiced, Drake could not deny the rush of pleasure he felt, reunited with his old sword. It was just the right size and weight for him, and of perfect balance. The _Emerald Fate_ reminded him of times past; of less weirdness and moral ambiguity. The sword had been a gift from Master Lee; another father- figure foolish enough to call Drake "son." If his "obscene" luck held out for just a while longer, maybe Drake would even have the honor of murdering his life's enemy with this beautiful weapon.

There wasn't much to say on the subject of killing the other mallard at this point. Drake had already accepted long ago that it would likely cost his own life to accomplish this feat. Even so, all things considered, Drake thought it was a bargain.


	11. Chapter 10: Les Deux Amours

Chapter 10: Les Deux Amours

The Negaverse

"So." Said the Negaverse Morgana, tone heavy with contempt. "You have finally decided to come out and face me like a true sorcerer."

"I intend to fight you, if that's what you mean." Said the aging Monoculo, scratching his head in a lovably self-depreciating way. "I made the mistake of swearing on your mother's grave I would find a way to break that duck's hold on you."

The dark Morgana and her father stood across from each other on the high rooftops of downtown St. Canard at night. The search for the _boy_ was becoming nearly as difficult as the one for the girl. The witch knew they were receiving help and protection from her fool of a father; the rumored 'fifth member of the Friendly Five.' The comparatively vulnerable-looking old man thwarted her at every turn, and the dark Morgana knew she would find no real pleasure until she fulfilled her mission.

"Quiet you senile old fool! Spat the sorceress. "Be still about things you cannot possibly understand!"

The duel began quite suddenly, as Morgana rose into the air dramatically, hair wildly ripping across her face. She rushed forward in a blur, hand blazing, and Moloculo just stood there for what seemed like forever, before Morgana went right through him. An illusion!!

The real Monoculo Macabre fired a point-blank blast of magic at Morgana's side, who was thrown off her feet, and off the edge of the building. Monoculo waited, knowing it would not be that easy. He shook his head, quite frankly heartbroken. " Your relationship with him is difficult for a sane person to understand, my daughter."

Just then, the floor beneath him shook, and a great red dragon burst out onto the roof! The building crumbled, and there was fire as the great reptile thrashed; and above it all, Monoculo heard the evil laughter of his lost child.

Meanwhile, in the Normalverse...

Morgana's cauldron bubbled and hissed in its setting. Eek and Squeak fluttered above the noxious brew, fanning it with their wings. It didn't_ look_ like anything anyone was supposed to be drinking, yet Archie was a brave soul. The spider lowered himself on a shimmering thread, and dared just one taste!

The arachnid promptly swooned, and dangled limply.

"Come now, aren't we being just a bit over dramatic?" Morgana chided, scooping up the little familiar in her hands. Archie gurgled.

"You _know_ it's not finished. Honestly, sometimes you're just impossible."

Eek and Squeak allowed themselves a snicker or two, relieving a little of their nervous energy.

"All is ready my friends." I just need to procure the final ingredient."

Morgana ascended the stairs of her home, emerging from the subterranean depths of her lab. She checked on her daughter Gosalyn, who's healthy and enthusiastic snores were heard, far earlier than she was seen.

Morgana smiled. She meant to have a word or two with that girl about a few things, but the moment to do so always seemed to elude.

The next room, Honker's room, was quiet. Morgana knocked gently.

"Come in."

Honker was sitting on his bed, in much the same pose he had been in all day; bent over his modified laptop. His expression was somewhat unreadable in the reflected glare on his glasses.

"Honker, let me take you home.. You have always been mature enough to make your own decisions, but it is wrong for us to keep you here. And of course, we have all been lying to your mother and father from the beginning."

Honker rubbed his tired eyes resolutely from under his glasses, and looked over at Ms. Macabre.

"It's all my fault." he said. "I'm a traitor, but...this is about saving the world, right?

"Somehow, I suspect saving the world isn't _quite_ as interesting to you as protecting Gosalyn."

Honker flushed a little, suddenly interested by what was flickering on screen.

"It is no secret." Said Morgana sympathetically. "Your devotion to her is admirable, but remember: your love for her is being exploited. Never forget to do what is best for yourself."

"I won't." Said Honker simply.

"Goodnight Herbert. Get some rest."

"Goodnight Ms. Macabre."

Morgana continued her ascent upward. She passed the room containing Mr. Grizzlikoff. The creaking of the boards suggested he was pacing the floor.

Further up, past ancient artifacts, weird specimens, and doors to environments fantastic and mundane, Morgana heard the sound of music drifting through the corridors.

Drake was playing his guitar.

Morgana had, by this point, changed her mind.

Why facilitate this madness? She could lock her family away and keep them safe, indefinitely. So help her, she would do it! Generations of long-dead Macabres seemed to approve of this idea from beyond the grave. Their proud and headstrong blood flowed hot through her veins!

The music stopped.

"Morgue?" Called Drake softly.

The sorceress swung the door open eerily in the semi-darkness.

There he was, sitting there with his guitar, unmoving. Morgana had always admired his courage.

Morgana glided forward a little, and the door shut and locked behind her with an air of finality.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

She looked at him some more, and he looked at her some more.

The silence spiraled into the absurd. _Now was the time to act. _

"Dark honey, please play something for me."

Drake obliged, perhaps feeling his last moment of autonomy ought to at least be one of artistic excellence. The air was soon lightened with music; a dark lullaby of a tune, yet filled with hope and beauty. Drake gave the composition great warmth of feeling.

When the song was finished, the sorceress stood before her husband in her night gown. She took the guitar away from him and set it down on the floor. Then she straddled his lap, and pressed against him like she'd never get close enough. She whispered in his ear as Drake struggled with a combination of love, sex, and fear.

"Dark...you know...you seem to be under the delusion your life is reasonable payment for his."

Morgana's embrace turned vise-like, as she continued.

"I will not enable you to go to the Negaverse under that premise." She said. "I cannot stand by you on that. Do you realize how cruel you are being to me? How I am being asked to rip my soul in half and serve it on a silver platter to that monster?"

Morgana drew out the moment on purpose.

"It makes me feel like...you have never fully comprehended the extent to which I need you."

Morgana kissed Drake deeply and passionately.

"How's that? All this time, have you assumed you needed me more?" She said, almost playfully. "_Promise_ me you will win, and that you and I will come home together. Those are my conditions."

"I promise." Said Drake hoarsely, nearly overcome with emotion.

They kissed again.

"I seriously considered making it so you could never leave this room." Said the sorceress with an edge. "And I may just do it yet."

Drake and Morgana made love for hours, and Morgana felt such an intense release as Drake moved deeply inside her. She felt like she was on the edge of death; as if love might swallow her whole...all in all, a good way to go.


	12. Chapter 11: Final Ingredients

CHAPTER 11 : Final Ingredients

Of course, the next day arrived all too soon. The sunlight crept over to the bed where Drake and Morgana were still intertwined.

"AAOUCH!"

Morgana was not especially sorry as she plucked a feather from a tender area on her husband.

"Just the final ingredient to the potion, you know how it goes. I need someone who has been to the Negaverse before and all that." she prattled on happily as she hopped out of bed.

Drake sighed fondly. What a woman! No one did "cheerfully sadistic" quite like her.

That afternoon, everyone was assembled downstairs in Morgana's lab. Drake was all kinds of uncomfortable facing Avian and Launchpad, the latter of whom still wasn't saying much of anything to him. It felt to Drake that everything was happening at once. Everything was converging rather painfully on this moment. He looked over to Morgana and Avian, who were making final magical preparations, and Fenton chatting to Neptunia, looking somehow even more like some unicyclist from the future than before. The rivalry between the two heroes dissolved in front of Drake's eyes, and all he saw was his friend; albeit, a friend who looked ridiculous! Grizzlikoff seemed to be physically steeling himself against the weirdness to come. Drake looked over at his daughter, who of course was raring to go, and the cautious optimism of Honker, who now towered over everyone. His heart was in this room. Dammit!!

"Well, this is it." Said Avian. Does everyone understand their assignment? If you're in a bind, you've got a walking call-center right here. Let's keep communication fluid. We'll be going through this portal momentarily, and then I will immediately apparate us all somewhere hopefully unoccupied. I picked a place we would be least likely to encounter Negaduck."

Where's that? Asked Stegmutt.

"Church." Said Avian. Everyone roared with laughter.

"But first we've gotta drink this amazing brew. Morgana dear, will you do the honors?"

Morgana dropped the pristine white feather onto the surface of her potion. It immediately dissolved, and the potion turned a lovely deep purple color.

Avian handed cups to everyone and together they took a drink. Drake thought it looked like some kind of sick Communion.

"Any words of wisdom, leader?" Asked Morgana.

"I just want to say...how much I...love everyone here. Drake began. "I am so proud of you all."

Drake listened to himself, embarrassed. He sounded awkward and condescending, and not particularly motivational. Everyone present was far more capable than he.

"I expect, nay, _demand_ that every one of you come back safe. We're _The_ Justice Ducks! The most feared group of people- on- the- planet! Said the crime fighter, punching his fist for emphasis. "Hardened criminals and villains tremble at the mere mention of of our name! None of them have a moment's peace in the world when we're together! The Negaverse won't know what hit 'em! And... on a side note, don't _ever _be fooled by the familiarity of anything in the Negaverse. Just about everything that we know to be good here is just the opposite there."

All right! exclaimed the green-clad teenager. "I'll bet my Negaverse double is all dark and _ultra_-evil."

"Actually, Said Drake matter-of-factly, "She's a sweet, well-mannered girl who wears pink frilly dresses and always does what she's told."

Gosalyn "humphed" indignantly amid the laughter.

"But that was a long time ago. Who knows what sort of person she's grown up to be." Drake quickly amended.

Morgana and Avian recited their incantation, while everyone held hands. The large, white circular marking on the stone wall of Morgana's lab glowed bright white, and instantly, there was a mean-looking multi-colored vortex spinning inside. Everyone could feel its magnetic power.

"I've got first dibs." Said Avian, who held tightly onto Launchpad, who held on to Fenton, who held on to Stegmutt, who held on to Neptunia, who held onto Vladimir, who held on to Honker, who held on to Gosalyn, who held onto Drake, who held onto Morgana, who was last. The sorceress had time for a final quick glance of her home and a half-realized silent prayer. Then she too was gone from this world.


End file.
